


Marked

by genee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-12
Updated: 2006-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be standing on the back steps of Weevil's grandmother's house, tail lights of the cab that dropped him off long gone and some neighbor's dog barking and barking. Logan thinks about leaving and thinks about knocking and then the door opens and Weevil's right there, shirtless and sleepy and Logan knows there's no where else he can go, not now, not like this. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

Logan's ribs still ache from the last time he was alone in a room with Weevil, and there's a thin line scraped into the black and blue low on his back from where he'd hit the sharp edge of the bathroom counter, bruises he remembers every time he moves, Weevil's body pressed against his, hot and angry, heavier than Logan expected, more real than anything he'd he felt in years. Weevil's fists slamming into his body, his face, his own fists slamming back, bone-jarring and bloody, just the two of them, body on body, sweaty and hard and it was nothing like fighting with Duncan, with _anybody_ , nothing at all.

He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be standing on the back steps of Weevil's grandmother's house, tail lights of the cab that dropped him off long gone and some neighbor's dog barking and barking. Logan thinks about leaving and thinks about knocking and then the door opens and Weevil's right there, shirtless and sleepy and Logan knows there's no where else he can go, not now, not like this.

Weevil doesn't say anything, just looks Logan up and down, tilts his head and crosses his arms, and finally, finally, opens the door wide enough to pull Logan through, fingers sliding under the waist of his jeans, nothing like before.

"You lost?" Weevil asks, not quite smiling, and Logan hears someone down the street holler at the barking dog, hears his father's voice in his head, hears Lilly's, too, laughing, fading away. A door slams and a car starts and Weevil runs the rough edge of his fingernail across Logan's pale skin.

 _Lost_ , Logan thinks. _Yes_.

"No," he says. There should be more, Logan is never at a loss for words, but his throat feels tight and his mouth is empty, just tongue and teeth and Logan thinks maybe this is what he is now, someone else's memories, someone else's everything. He rubs his hands across his face, not sure where else to put them. "I'm never lost."

"Liar." Weevil's voice is soft and low and Logan feels himself breathing again, stepping closer, heat of Weevil's body as the door closes again and Logan's inside, following Weevil through the darkened house, soft creak on the stairs and Logan pauses, breath caught in his throat until Weevil turns, eyes flashing in the half-light.

"There's no one here," Weevil says, tapping his knuckles on the wall, a hollow sound that makes Logan blink and look away. "It's okay," he says, and Logan swallows hard, tries to believe.

Weevil's room is nothing like Logan imagined it, or maybe it is, maybe it would be if he'd ever bothered to think about anything but the way Weevil would look, spread out on dirty sheets, cock hard and thick and pressing into him, Logan's fingers digging into the ink on Weevil's biceps, biting his own lip as he sinks down, as Weevil thrusts up, and oh, fuck, Logan doesn't want to think about that now, because this is nothing like that. This is better, this is _happening_ , Weevil pressing him against the wall, pinning him there with his eyes, with his hips, fingers tracing the collar of Logan's shirt, sliding around the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him into a kiss.

Weevil knows what he's doing, which isn't really a surprise. It's a relief, is what it is, Weevil's teeth scraping across his throat, scratch of stubble, flex of Weevil's muscles everywhere, his thigh pressed between Logan's legs exactly what he needs right now, what he wants, why he came here. Weevil makes him feel, makes him real, makes him _want_. Weevil's just as fucked up as he is, just as pissed off and powerless and _fuck_ , he's mouthy and arrogant and hard as a fucking rock, hand sliding behind Logan's head seconds before it hits the wall behind them. Logan hears the sounds in his own throat, needy and wild, Weevil all pressed up against him, hot, so hot Logan can't stop his tongue from flicking out and tasting, hands skimming over the swell of Weevil's ribs, bruised, just like Logan's.

 _Marked_.

Just like Logan.

"You okay?" Weevil asks, warm breath in Logan's ear and Logan wonders if he's really supposed to answer until Weevil bites at his lip and asks him again. "Hey, pretty boy? You okay?"

"Aces," Logan manages. "Fuck."

Logan's fingers slide down the bare skin of Weevil's back, soft and slick, heat pooling in the low dip just above his jeans and Logan follows it all the way down, pulling them closer, slow sweet grind until Weevil does something with his hips and Logan has to really focus now, slow buzz in his head, in the base of his spine.

Soft woosh of Logan's shirt hitting the floor, loud thump of his heart pounding in his chest, low fizz of someone's voice, _fuck, fuck, fuck_ , and Logan suspects that someone is him because it can't be Weevil. Can't be Weevil because Weevil dropped to his knees about two seconds ago, tugging open Logan's button fly and mouthing a hot, wet stripe all the way up Logan's dick, licking around the head before he started sucking for real, and it's so fucking hot, the way he just does it, the way he _knows_. The way one of Weevil's hands is already digging a new bruise into Logan's hip and the other is wrapped around the base of his dick, fast and hot, slick from Weevil's mouth, hard and _fuck_.

Weevil's done this before, obviously, definitely, absofuckinglutely has done this before, has had someone else's cock in his mouth and Logan, _fuck_ , hasn't.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , and it's starting to sound less like a prayer, more like a request, and _fuck_ , Logan thinks he's getting close to demanding, for which he's profoundly grateful. He thinks he'll be proud, later, when his pants aren't tangled around his ankles and his hands aren't curved around the back of Weevil's head.

Logan feels it in his thighs, too soon, thrusting against Weevil's grip, once, twice and then Weevil's fingers disappear and Logan freezes, Weevil looking up at him with Logan's dick still in his mouth, not even sucking, not hardly moving until Logan settles back against wall. Weevil licks around the head again, rubs his lips down and around and _fuck_ , licks his way back up, so good Logan can't catch his breath until Weevil slides one hand back around Logan's hip and squeezes tight, fingers finding the sore spots they left behind.

Logan hears himself gasp, feels his dick slide along the outside of Weevil's cheek, once, twice, and _fuck_ , that's hot. He's going to come all over Weevil's face if he does it again, which maybe he says out loud because Weevil laughs and let's his dick go, pushes it against Logan's belly and then holds it up, so careful as he sucks at Logan's damp skin, leaving a bruise Logan doesn't want to think about, doesn't want to imagine, but he is anyway, can see it clearly, his dick rubbing against it, hard and needy and pressed into Weevil's sheets.

"Fucking tease," Logan says, voice all gravelly and gone and Weevil grins up at him, presses Logan's dick into the mark with his hand, hard. It's hot and wet and Logan knows it'll be sore later but right now it's enough that it's there, that Weevil _knows_. Knows that no matter where Logan is, when he thinks about it, when his jeans rub against it, when his _dick_ rubs against it, Logan's going to think about this, about Weevil, about how much he wants Weevil to fuck him right now, hard, just like this.

"You have no idea," Weevil says, and Logan wonders if he knows how true that it is. Not that it matters, because Weevil's backing away from him, undoing his jeans and stepping out of them and Weevil's dick is right there, flat against his belly and blood dark, wet and shiny at tip. Logan can't take his eyes off it, bites his own lip when Weevil wraps his hand around it, jerking himself slow and easy like Logan's not even there, crinkly hood of skin sliding over the head with every stroke.

"Fuck."

"Oh, yeah," Weevil says, stroking one more time before his hand wraps around Logan's wrist, sticky and hot and Logan wants to taste. Weevil pulls him away from the wall and onto the bed, bodies pressed together, Logan's fingers digging into Weevil's biceps, gasping when Weevil grinds his hips, their dicks rubbing together, burst of pre-come Logan can smell, bruises he can feel and Weevil's eyes locked on his, dark and liquid.

"Fuck."

"Mmm," he says, sliding his dick against Logan's, against the bruise he sucked into Logan's belly, leaning close to bite at Logan's jaw, his lips, arching back and _fuck_ , it's too much, the way it feels, the way Weevil feels, heavy and solid and Logan can't help leaning up and sucking at Weevil's skin, tasting it, dark nipple right there, salty and a little sweet. " _Fuck_ , yeah."

Tangle of arms and legs and hot hot skin, Weevil's hand wrapped around both their dicks and Logan closes his eyes, it's too hot, he can't, but it's already too late. Even with his eyes closed it's all he can see, Weevil's cock against his, thick and dark and _fuck_ , skin sliding against skin, Logan's hands sliding over Weevil's ribs, over the soft curve of his ass, heat and pressure and Weevil moans, leans in and kisses him.

"Look at me," Weevil says, breathy and hoarse and Logan's eyes open a split second before he comes, hot splash on his belly, on his chest, Weevil's hips stuttering, losing their rhythm, and Logan has to look now, has to see, Weevil's dick sliding through the mess on his stomach, over the mouth-shaped bruise, over and over, like a pulse. Logan feels Weevil's orgasm before he sees it, thick spurts of white so fucking hot Logan almost feels like he's coming again, balls pulled up tight, Weevil's body warm and heavy, and Logan wouldn't pull away even if he could, even if Weevil wasn't whispering something against his throat, wasn't pressing his lips to the soft skin just above Logan's collarbone and sucking hard.

Logan squirms a little, shivers, and Weevil kisses his way up to Logan's mouth, softer this time, no tongue, no teeth, and Logan would move now, if he could.

"Don't," Weevil says, traces his fingers over Logan's jaw, his cheek, his hair. Weevil's hand reeks of sex, of the two of them, and Logan turns into it without thinking and kisses his palm. "You're killin' me," Weevil says. "Christ."

Outside that dog is barking again, and Logan thinks he must be crazy, coming here, doing this. "I should go."

"Fuck no," Weevil says, sitting up a little and looking close, watching Logan blush. Weevil rubs his thumb under Logan's cheekbone, kisses him slowly, taking his time. "You should stay right where you are."

The sky outside Weevil's bedroom window is pale blue when Logan finally wakes up, Weevil's hand splayed against his chest and Weevil's breath ghosting over the back of his neck. He remembers opening his eyes a few hours ago, Weevil leaning over him with a warm washcloth in his hands, gray light like shadows and Weevil's eyes dark and bright. Weevil cleaned him up and didn't say a word, kissed the mark on his belly and climbed back into the narrow bed, pulling Logan close. Logan hasn't slept like this in forever, dreamless and easy, and he wonders what the chances are of doing it again sometime soon. Weevil shifts, presses the thick length of his dick against Logan's ass and scrapes his chin across the fading black and blue on Logan's shoulder.

"Morning, Sunshine," Logan says, surprised by how normal his voice sounds, surprised by how normal he _feels_ , Weevil just waking up behind him, pink lips and caramel skin and Logan reaches over, touches his fingers to the bite marks way up high on Weevil's throat. "So. We going to school today or what?"

Weevil looks at the clock on the nightstand and laughs, rolls them over until he's looking up T Logan, all eyelashes and innocence, like they aren't naked and pressed together, like his dick isn't rubbing against Logan's right now, silky skin hot and hard between them. "Now why would we want to do that?"

"I have _no_ idea," Logan says, grinning, and he really doesn't. Weevil's sprawled out underneath him, old scars and new ones, too, hands settled on Logan's hips and daylight shining through the window, everything Logan isn't supposed to want right here in this room. "Let's skip."

"Yeah, okay," Weevil says, one hand sliding all the way up Logan's spine, hot on the back of his neck and Logan feels marked in a million different ways. "Let's."    
   


\-- END --


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